


Crack Drabbles

by WinterAsh



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor, Parody, Silly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:12:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterAsh/pseuds/WinterAsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This will be a collection of humorous drabbles I come up with. If you need a laugh or want to read something absurd yet strangely in character, feel free to hop in and read. There will probably be no couplings, but maybe every now and then there will be a hint of so. If It's slash, I'll insert a warning.</p><p>The first drabble is the only one with The Doctor in it, so you can still read this even if you don't know Doctor Who.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Cumberbatch, for making me have to write this out because it was too funny NOT to.
> 
> NOTE: Some people seem to assume that the entire series of drabbles is crossovers. While I do randomly crossover, they're not all crossovers. The only reason the Doctor is in this is to explain how the hell they're in space.

Crack Drabbles

by Ash Winters

"I told you not to pull that lever."

"How was I supposed to know this is what would happen?"

"He told you not to touch it."

"And?"

"Sherlock. We're floating in space. On a mattress."

"Indeed we are, John."

John pressed a hand to his face as he sighed in annoyance. He looked around, they were floating in space on a mattress. Handcuffed. All because Sherlock had to know what that lever on the control panel of the TARDIS did. He wasn't expecting them to be tossed out of the TARDIS mid-flight, on a mattress with handcuffs. Why would anyone need that anyways?

So here they were, floating in space and hoping to see the TARDIS show up to reclaim them. John kept his back to Sherlock best he could as he sulked over this entire ordeal. He had a date that night, and here he was. Handcuffed to Sherlock. He couldn't stress that point enough.

"Now I'm probably going to miss my date and why? Because you had to pull that bloody lever. Seriously Sherlock. For a genius you can be rather daft sometimes!"

Sherlock turned to reply in kind when they heard a voice behind them.

"Why does no one ever listen to me when I'm talking! I said not to touch anything, and what do you do? Pull a lever. Not just any lever, the one reserved for River and I. Now, if you would be so kind as to get back in the TARDIS? That's good, come along now."

The handcuffs fell to the floor after the Doctor inserted the key. He gave them a look that spoke volumes before saying, "Now, I'm taking you back home. Don't. Touch. Anything."


	2. Chapter 2

Knock it off

by Ash Winters.

"Oi. Would you knock if off?"

"But, can you?"

"No. I can't. Now stop singing, I'm trying to do my job here. The job you sent me out to do. Why are you here anyways?"

"Because I want to make sure you do it right."

"Jim. Have I ever missed?"

"No." He singsonged, dancing around the empty room, spinning around to look at Sebastian with a large, slightly deranged smile.

Sebastian groaned and went back to staring through his scope, waiting for his target to end up between his cross-hairs.

The target sank into his chair and he exhaled, lining up the shot, his finger sliding onto the trigger and beginning to pull, slowly, carefully-

"Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon? Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?"

"Jim. Stop." Sebastian growled out, biting down harshly on the cigarette butt between his lips in aggravation. He glared over his shoulder to where his boss was currently spinning mid song.

"Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain? Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?"

"Let me do my job, Jim."

Moriarty stopped mid spin, did a rather dramatic pose and slammed his thumb down on a small piece of plastic in his hand at the same time he repeated, "Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?"

Sebastian covered his head as the building across exploded, the window he was set up in front of shattering and covering him with glass. Where Moriarty was standing left him rather unscathed save for a cut across his forehead and cheek, his hair wild, his grin maniacal, his shirt now open from the force and his arms out from his sides. He was breathing with an almost perverse pant in his excitement.

Sebastian stood up and slammed his cigarette on the floor, "If you were going to bloody blow up the building, why the fuck did you have me set up here hours ago to shoot the bastard?"

"I wanted company." Was the simple reply as the black haired man spun on his heel and left with a skip in his step.


	3. My, My, My.

My, My, My

by Ash Winters

"Mycroft, is there a reason I had to come all the way here instead of yo-"

Mycroft looked up sharply, a look of horror colouring his features as he took in the shocked expression pasted on his brothers usually stoic face. Sherlock stood, shell-shocked, in the doorway of his brothers room.

"I thought you would be arriving later." Mycroft stated, his voice level and composed regardless of the situation.

"In the end I couldn't see the body due to Molly not being at the morgue." Sherlock replied, his eyes never leaving his brothers form.

"I see. Some warning would have been splendid, as you can see."

Sherlock continued to stare at him, his features pinched in a perplexed manner. Mycroft ignored the obvious demand in those sea-green eyes and continued on, "I have a case for you. I would do it myself however, it requires vigorous work and that's more your style. Would you like the details? I'm sure it will be worth your while."

"Yes, all very good, Mycroft, but would you please be so kind as to inform me as to why you're in mum's evening gown?"


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this on a sheet of loose leaf paper in my lap in bed after knitting and I was inspired. I'm not home so I couldn't just.. go to my computer and type it up, haha. Enjoy. R&R

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

Sherlock glanced up from where he comfortably sat in his armchair.

"You told me to get a hobby outside of body parts and experiments. Something 'normal' as you put it." Sherlock drawled.

"But... Knitting? Really?"

The brunette put his needles down in his lap, the crimson yarn spilling about his legs.

"It's apparently relaxing and oh so very normal."

"For girls it is." John groaned out, finding the whole thing absolutely bizarre.

"Why, John! Isn't it you whom normally informs my, what was it, 'gender specifications' towards certain aspects as sexist?"

The blonde groaned and nodded. This whole situation was odd. To think his flatmate dissecting body parts was a preferable image than him peacefully knitting in an armchair. A nagging question suddenly assaulted him.

"Who taught you how to knit?"

"Mycroft."

John stared at Sherlock in utter disbelief.

"Seriously, John. The woman at the yarn store. I was joking."

That was enough for John, "That's it, forget I said anything! Go back to experimenting!"


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bella gave me the idea and I just.. ran with it. Being a long time fan and all.. couldn't help it. Enjoy. R&R.

John was busy making himself a cup of tea when his flatmate entered the kitchen and regarded him in a curious manner. The blonde raised a brow and turned to look at the tall man, whom was currently staring at him with his brows furrowed and his fingers steepled in a pensive manner under his chin.

"John, I have a question."

"What is it?"

"How fast can an unladen swallow fly?"

"Did.. did you just quote Monty Python and the Holy Grail in a serious manner?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I just... Can't imagine you watching such a thing."

"Clearly." Sherlock murmured before turning on his heel and walking back into his room, his dressing gown billowing behind him in a dramatic manner.

John stared after his friend's retreating back until the door closed before he looked back at his tea pensively.

"How fast does it go?" He murmured before shaking his head and going back to his tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My nipples explode in delight! ... I could go on forever.


	6. What the...

What the..

by Ash Winters

John was happily sitting on the sofa; a good book in his hands and delicious tea in close proximity just ready to be sipped. He turned the page but found he could not read much past the first line. Something was bothering him and breaking his concentration. The question was, what was it?

Frowning, John lowered his book and looked around, trying to find the source of intrusion. He came to realise that Sherlock had been tapping away at his computer. He wondered if the man was writing something for his website, but then recalled the argument they had the other day. Sherlock was displeased with how he wrote their tales on his blog, he assumed that when he gave John permission to write it, it was so that he would write out a scientific, clinical recollection of his methods. He insisted that John romanticised them, turning Sherlock into some sort of hero. Could it be he would relinquish his right to blog their tales of adventure?

Swallowing these dreadful thoughts, John rose from where he was seated and quietly made his way to where Sherlock was situated at the dining table. The other was quite engrossed in his work so he never noticed the blonde presence, even when he was directly behind him and peering over his shoulder to the word document that was open.

John's brows pinched as he studied the page, mouth dropping open as he read the beginning of the page:

Dear Diary,

He looked at me again today, could it be he feels the same?

He just looks so cute in that jumper, he looks especially cute when he makes tea.

When he smiles he looks adorable, I can see the sparkle in his eyes when he smiles at me.

I can imagine us holding hands, I blush every time I think about it.

John slowly stood upright, swallowed, and quietly made his way back to the couch. He settled in, staring blankly in front of him as he reached a hand out to snag his tea. He took a sip, the only thought going through his head was, 'I wish I knew how to delete memories.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bella wrote the last three lines of the diary entry because my diaries in elementary school were full of science-findings (I studied a hair under my microscope today.. etc.) or to be used after I broke my right arm and had to relearn how to write with my left. whereas she had a more common girly diary.
> 
> My dad came up with the idea, however, and I ran off with it.


End file.
